


Newness

by Bisexualtrashlord



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Body Worship, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Thomas loves Flint's freckles you guys, new relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 21:46:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13303908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bisexualtrashlord/pseuds/Bisexualtrashlord
Summary: James and Thomas explore new territories in their relationship. Like the first flickers of a freshly lit candle, they exchange touches and words that are fleeting, but nonetheless warm.





	Newness

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, this fic was inspired by this gorgeous illustration by thefvkingwarship on tumblr (check out their stuff, it's excellent.) I was so blown away by this illustration that I just Had to write about it. Enjoy!  
> https://thefvckingwarship.tumblr.com/post/164141015550/the-night-painter-freedom-in-the-dark-for#notes

Thomas’s hand was soft in James’s. He led him through the corridors of the quiet Hamilton estate, dimly lit throughout the house by sparse candles. The staff was nowhere to be found, and Miranda was away.

They were alone.

James hoped that Thomas couldn’t hear his hammering heart as they walked, trying with every fiber of his being to suppress his nervousness. This thing that they shared, what they were, was still very new. It had been three weeks since they shared that kiss at the table, when they made their silent proclamation to care for each other. Though they saw each other almost daily, shared jokes and stories and passions, this new step was entirely fragile. Like the first flickers and movement of a candle that was freshly lit, or like the first stars out at night, small and trembling.

James feels that fragility, that newness in something as simple as a handshake that lasts a second too long, or when they find themselves gazing at each other during a salon. James felt it at the dinner party they had returned from, the pair sticking together practically the whole night. He felt it in the carriage on the way back, and in the way Thomas spoke.

“Are you staying tonight?” his voice was soft, almost unsure.

“Only if you’ll have me,” James replied, surprised at his own boldness.

Thomas smiled in the dark, “I would.”

And James felt it here, now, in Thomas’s room. They lounged on the plush bed, backs resting against the pillows, James almost sinking into the sheets. His eyes fluttered closed as Thomas reached out and ran his fingers through the loose strands of hair that escaped its tie.

“It’s amazing,” muttered Thomas as he played with the hair.

“What is?” asked James.

“That someone can spend months in salt at sea, and have hair be as soft as this. It’s almost a miracle.” Thomas’s voice was soft, but every bit as light as the candles around them.

James chuckled, “Maybe I should try to preserve it even more for you. I’ll start to wear one of those abhorrent wigs, and remove it when we’re alone.”

Thomas laughed, a quiet thing. “While the image is amusing, I much prefer this. How else will I be able to see how your hair catches the light?” he asked weaving more strands in between his fingers.

“I doubt you find much light in London during winter, Thomas,” James said dryly.

“On the contrary, you make your own. Your very presence is a beacon,” Thomas murmured.

James’s breath hitched. No one had ever been so quick to pour sweet words over him before, or praise him like this. The gentleness with which Thomas spoke was enough to quicken James’s heart. But add his soft, careful hands and fond gaze, James is reeling.

“Did you ever think your beacon would be the son of a carpenter?” James asked, sinking deeper into his pillow and reaching out to run his hand on Thomas’s linen clad arm.

Thomas shook his head, moving to James’s level. “No, but life has a way of surprising you with beautiful things, doesn’t it?” he murmured, leaning closer to James’s face.

Their lips met, soft and chaste in the beginning, but quickly deepening. James’s hand moved from Thomas’s shoulder to the nape of his neck while Thomas’s found purchase on James’s hip. James broke the kiss and shuddered a gasp when he felt Thomas’s warm hand begin to slide under his shirt.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—I did not mean to--” Thomas stammered, sitting up and backing away from the other man.

“No, no, do not apologize. I did not mean to react to harshly,” replied James, sitting up to face Thomas, face growing hot.

“If you would prefer that I don’t touch you that way--” Thomas said, voice calmer.

“No! No, it’s not that. I’ve…I’ve never been this way with anyone before, it took me rather by surprise,” said James.

“Ah. In that case, I shall avoid all negative surprises with you then. I never want you to feel discomfort when we are together,” said Thomas, sitting back on his haunches, playing with the frayed ends on his shirt.

“I…never said I did not like the feeling.”

Thomas’s hand stilled, and looked up to meet James’s eyes. “Would…would you like me to touch you again?” he whispered.

James swallowed hard. “Yes,” the word came out trembled and small.

Thomas nodded silently, and with a small smile crawled over to James. He started with his hands, holding one in each of his own, running his thumb along them. His smile grew as he felt the way James’s callouses felt under Thomas’s soft thumbs. The supple, pampered hands of a lord holding the hardened ones of a sailor. He laughed; he never felt hands more suited for him than James’s.

“What?” muttered James.

“I was just admiring how perfect our hands fit,” Thomas murmured, glancing up at James. The other man managed a small smile at Thomas’s words, his nerves beginning to calm.

Thomas moved his hands to the hem of James’s shirt, pushing it back to let his fingers touch James’s skin. When his fingertips touched the edge of James’s hip, both men shivered, eyes snapping to meet each other.

James felt his breathing grow heavy and face heat up further.

“Don’t stop,” he whispered.

Thomas nodded and gently grasped the end of James’s shirt, lightly lifting it. James heaved a shaky sigh as he and Thomas slowly tugged the shirt off together.

Thomas let out a small gasp.

“What is it?” asked James, his voice small.

Thomas didn’t respond as he took in James’s body. Solid, lean arms and broad shoulders from his time at sea. His gaze moved down to his firm, muscled belly and the slight definition at his hip.

But the thing that truly blew Thomas away, the thing that really captured his attention, was the seemingly endless number of freckles scattered across James’s upper body. In the candlelight, they looked like speckles of pure amber dusted along pale, smooth skin. Thomas marveled at the way the amber freckles mixed with the soft, copper coils on James’s chest and stomach. _What did the rest of his body look like?_ thought Thomas.

“ _Oh,”_ breathed Thomas.

“Thomas?” asked James, face warming up at Thomas’s gaze.

The other man blinked to snap out of his staring. “Forgive me. I…I have never seen these many freckles on anyone before.”

James huffed a laugh and hung his head. “Ah, yes, they certainly are an imperfection that I--”

“They’re stunning.”

James’s head snapped up, “what?”

“They’re stunning, James,” Thomas whispered, as if speaking any louder would make the freckles disappear.

“I’ve never thought of them as stunning, rather a reminder of how of how deathly pale my skin is,” James said flatly.

“On the contrary, I think they’re the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen,” Thomas murmured. Hesitantly, he reached out and placed a hand on James’s shoulder, running it down and moving to his arm. He failed to suppress his shiver as he felt James’s muscles under his hand.

“What about them is beautiful?” asked James, mesmerized by Thomas’s hand traveling down his arm and to his hand.

Thomas took one of James’s hands in both his own. “You look like you’re dusted in gold, rare and wonderful. Which means you’re incredibly precious,” he murmured, gently kissing each of James’s fingers.

James was at a loss for words. He never considered his imperfection as something to be marveled or beheld, they were simply a part of him, something that would appear when the sun became too high and hot. But having someone praise them and touch them, be in awe of them, _cherish_ them, was a sensation completely new to the man.

“Thank you…” James croaked.

Thomas looked up from his hands and smiled softly, reaching out to hold James’s face.

“No one has ever said those words to you before, have they?” Thomas asked softly.

James shook his head, “No.”

“Then I will say them, and continue to say them until the number surpasses the freckles you have,” Thomas murmured, closing the space between them and having their lips meet.

James smiled into the kiss as it deepened, allowing himself to melt into the feeling of another man against him, loving him. His hands roamed from Thomas’s back to the nape of his neck to his shoulder, beginning to slide under his shirt. Thomas sighed and broke the kiss for a fraction of a second, only to strip himself of his own shirt. James shivered when his hands found Thomas’s torso, blown away by the warm, soft skin under his hands.

Thomas parted, moving to pepper kisses along James’s forehead, then his cheeks, and them to his shoulders, where he stopped and wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in James’s shoulder, breathing him in.

James wrapped his arms around Thomas, pulling him closer. He closed his eyes, getting lost in the feeling of Thomas holding him. In his arms, in this room, James felt something he hasn’t felt in a long time. He felt warm, safe.

_Free._

Despite himself, he let out a quiet, shuddering gasp and tightened his hold on Thomas who, as if reading his mind, ran his hand up and down James’s back to sooth him.

“It’s alright, James,” murmured Thomas.

It was.

Not long after that, the two laid back down among the sheets. Thomas ran his hands along James’s chest, setting out to work on counting each one of James’s freckles.

After a couple moments of silence, James heard Thomas huff out a laugh.

“What is it?”

“I just realized why these freckles look like gold.”

“Oh?”

“These are no doubt Apollo’s doing, and each one of these is a kiss he’s left you that lingered,” Thomas said, playful.

James grew a smile, “Is that so?”

“You would know better than anyone, and it appears he’s left millions of them, head to toe, and in places I cannot see. Are you having an affair with Apollo behind my back?” Thomas asked, his smile growing, moving to kneel on the bed.

“Are you jealous, my Lord?” James asked, his smile turning into a smirk.

“Hardly, a god taking interest in a mortal is a high honor. Only now I have a challenge, to kiss you more than the gods themselves,” Thomas said.

“It appears that you have work to do,” said James.

Thomas chuckled, straddling James’s hips and lowering himself to hover over James’s lips.

“I relish the challenge,” he said before kissing James’s jaw and neck, laughing all the while.

They kissed and laughed late into the night, slowly building a space of joy, love, and comfort.

Of freedom.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
